


Phantasmagoric Pageantry

by Taliya



Series: Fanfare [4]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Moving On, Secret Identity, Secret Identity Fail, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 22:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19343656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliya/pseuds/Taliya
Summary: In the years after Kaito’s death and Conan moving to Ekoda but before the reappearance of the third Kaitou KID, Nakamori Aoko learns the truth about her late best friend.  References to major character death.  Rated for mild language.





	Phantasmagoric Pageantry

**Author's Note:**

> Detective Conan and Magic Kaito characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Aoyama Gōshō.
> 
> \---
> 
> Warnings: Major references to character death, mild language

The wake had been awful.

The funeral had been _worse_.

It killed her to see Kaito so pale and so still.  The funeral director had done a decent job restoring her friend’s face: the broken nose had been straightened, and the purple bruises had been covered with makeup.  All in all, sixteen-year-old Kuroba Kaito looked like he was merely asleep inside the casket and wearing a black satin-lapeled suit over a white button up.

 _Kaito,_ she thought numbly as she watched the priest solemnly chant ceremonial Buddhist sutras.  She curled her hands into fists and pressed them into her lap as she willed herself not cry.  It was a pointless endeavor.  Beside her, her father, Nakamori Ginzo, and Kaito’s mother, Kuroba Chikage, knelt nearest to the casket as Kaito’s family and closest friends.

Aoko watched the weeping widow, and her heart went out to the normally free-spirited globetrotter who had lost her family entirely.  First her husband Touichi, and now Kaito, her only son.  _I’m so sorry for your loss, Chikage-san,_ she thought, and fought the sudden urge to wrap the older woman in a fierce hug.

After Kaito had been given his kaimyou, Aoko filed after Chikage and her father, a bouquet consisting of white chrysanthemums, a single gardenia bloom, and a rebellious smattering of four-leaf clovers in her hands.  When it was her turn to step up to the casket to view Kaito for one last time, Aoko lost it.  She clutched the flowers in her grasp with a desperation she had not felt since her own mother had died as she wept.  Through the blur of her tears, she gazed at that now-eternally peaceful face and whimpered, “Kaito no _baka_ …”

Sniffling, she gently, reverently placed the flowers inside the coffin next to his head, stilling the impulse to tenderly cup his cheek in a way she had never done when he had been alive.  She withdrew her hands and branded his features into her memory, eyes taking in every little detail of his face despite the tears.  She hiccupped as she gave her friend a final, watery smile.

_I love you, Kaito.  I always have._

Aoko barely remembered settling back into her spot, waiting for the rest of Kaito’s friends and acquaintances to pay their respects.  She barely recalled who had come, though the faces of Momoi Keiko, Hakuba Saguru, and Koizumi Akako came to mind.

After the funeral, Kaito’s body was cremated.  She watched wanly as Chikage picked his bones from the ashes, placing them inside the decorative urn that would carry him to his final resting place.  The trip to the graveyard passed in a blur, and she vaguely recalled his urn being settled in the family grave, a sotoba bearing his name informing visitors of its newest inhabitant.

Aoko did not remember at all getting home.  It would be months before she would be able to fall asleep without crying herself to exhaustion, and years before the piercing bite of loss dulled into something a little more manageable.

\---

The twenty-first of June greeted twenty-one-year-old Aoko with bright sunlight streaking through her window.  She groaned as she rolled over, stuffing her face into her pillow to block out the light.  It was already well into the summer holiday, and she was back in her childhood home as opposed to the small apartment she lived in during the school year.  Today was a day like any other, for a weekend—Aoko tended to run errands on Saturdays, and sleep in and do chores on Sundays.

This Saturday, however, she planned on staying home for the most part.

This Saturday was— _had been_ —Kuroba Kaito’s birthday.

The young woman moved so that she stared vacantly at the headboard of her bed, her heart heavy with muted grief.  Despite the fact that Kaito had been gone for five years now, Aoko still felt the loss of her best friend acutely.  For her, it was like having an amputated limb, complete with phantom sensations.

 _He would have been twenty-two this year,_ she thought with a shaky sigh as tears welled, unbidden, in her eyes.  _Gods I miss you, Kaito._

Aoko allowed herself this moment of weakness, allowed herself to cry as she keened aloud her pain.  Despite it being a Saturday, her father was already at work, and so she knew that she did not need to muffle her sobs.  There was no one around to hear her anyway.

An hour later, puffy-eyed and exhausted, Aoko hauled herself into the bathroom for a quick shower and a long soak in the furo.  She nearly fell asleep in the tub, and grudgingly toweled off and slipped into a fresh set of clothing.  _What to do today?_

There was no way she was running errands—not in her current mental, emotional, and physical state.  As she glanced out of her bedroom window, a thought occurred to her: how was Kaito’s mother handling his birthday?

“Perhaps I should check up on her, just in case,” she murmured as she made herself toast for breakfast—she was not very hungry, after all.  She choked the bread down with the aid of a glass of milk before grabbing her phone, keys, and wallet, and headed out the door.

Gazing up at the house that had practically been her second home, Aoko rang the doorbell.  She had no idea if Conan was home; the boy had a tendency to go on camping trips with his friends on long weekends and holidays.  She waited for a while, the crease in her brows deepening the longer she stood there.  Chikage’s car was parked in the garage, so Aoko knew the woman was likely inside.  That she was not answering the door was… worrying.

Aoko rang the doorbell again and followed up with a knock on the door.  “Chikage-san?” she called, “Chikage-san!”  When there was still no reply, Aoko decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.  Unlocking the front door with a copy of the house key Kaito had given to her years—oh gods had it really been _seven_ _years ago_ when he had given her this key?—she stepped into the silent house.  A glance at the small cabinet of shoes revealed that Conan’s red sneakers were missing; he was apparently out and about.

The kitchen, dining, and living rooms were empty.  Aoko hesitantly shuffled into the master bedroom, calling Chikage’s name frequently.  The bedroom and adjoining bathroom and closet were empty as well.  She went upstairs, checking the guest room and communal bathroom.  The last room to check was Kaito’s—which was now Conan’s, judging by the difference in décor.

The furniture remained the same, with the bed tucked in the corner and the desk right next to it.  But where decks of cards, piles of confetti, and books on sleight of hand had once been, there were now brand-new soccer cleats, a spare pair of oversized glasses, and the complete collection of Sherlock Holmes.

Aoko’s heart clenched at seeing the familiar layout with such unfamiliar decorations.  It was further proof that her best friend was gone.  Her eyes turned to the tall portrait of Kuroba Touichi, and she stepped up to it.  “Touichi-san,” she whispered, looking at the painting and wondering what Kaito would have looked like had he reached adulthood.

Already she could see the similarities in the painted face and the one she remembered; the male Kurobas shared the same eye color, same nose, same jawline.  Would Kaito have grown to look more like his father, when the face she remembered was more like his mother?  Would he have eventually grown a moustache?  She huffed at the thought.

“Touichi-san,” she murmured, reaching a hand up to delicately trace the painted face as tears welled up in her eyes, “if you can hear me, please tell Kaito I say hello.”  Her hand dropped, and she unsuccessfully stifled a sob as she pressed her head against the portrait.

But rather than supporting the leaning weight of her head, the painting gave way and Aoko shrieked in surprise as she fell through the frame of the portrait.  She tumbled through empty space for a breath, then landed with an, “Oof!” in something soft.

“Ah…” she groaned, straightening herself in… a worn leather armchair?  She blinked, glancing around a room she had never seen before.  There were shelves, workman’s benches, chemistry equipment, a jukebox, a _car_ , and an open wardrobe with—

The recognizable white and blue outfit of the infamous Kaitou KID stood before her, perfectly displayed on a mannequin.  Aoko gaped at the clothing, her brain beyond hopelessly confused at what she was staring at.  _What—I—I don’t—_

Her thoughts screeched to a halt when she finally noticed the figure kneeling just off to the side of the wardrobe.  Her eyes widened with stunned disbelief upon recognizing who the person was as she audibly gasped.

“A-Aoko-chan,” Chikage whispered in a shaking, terror-stricken voice.  “How did you…?”  Her voice trailed off, her expression a textbook example of petrified fear as her eyes flitted momentarily upwards and spotted the partially-open portrait entry.

 _So if KID’s outfit is here, then Kaito…_   Finishing the thought was too horrible to even contemplate.  At length Aoko managed to get her jaw working again, and croaked out, “ _… why…?”_

“Aoko-chan—” Chikage began, but she was cut off by a shocked and increasingly angry Aoko.

“ _Why_ is Kaitou KID's suit hiding in _this house_?” she hissed, pointing accusingly at the wardrobe righted herself in the chair.

The Kuroba widow got to her feet and stood before the outfit.  “Aoko-chan,” she pleaded, “please let me explain—”

“WHAT IS THERE TO EXPLAIN ABOUT?!” she shrieked, tears pooling in her eyes as her temper erupted.  “OTHER THAN THE FACT THAT I’D BEEN LIED TO FOR AS LONG AS I’VE KNOWN YOU!”

Chikage stared at her late son’s best friend for a long moment before she said quietly, “I cannot vouch for Kaito—or Touichi, for that matter—but I can personally attest that I have never once lied to you, Aoko-chan.”

Aoko glared mutinously at the other woman.  “And how do I know you aren’t lying to me right now?”  Indigo eyes that achingly reminded Aoko of her friend’s shuttered in response, she fleetingly wondered how often Kaito had done that do her without her realizing when he had still been alive.

“I may have omitted certain facts or purposely misled you,” Chikage said with a new, but subtle edge to her voice.  “But never once have I outright lied to you.”

She sneered in reply.  “Could have fooled me.”  One moment she was standing on her own two feet, and in the next she was sitting in the armchair, lashed securely around the torso and arms with a long length of rope.  Aoko blinked before immediately beginning to struggle.  “Let me go!” she snapped, glowering murderously at the suspiciously blank-faced woman.  “Let me go or I’ll—”

She abruptly froze as Chikage seemingly teleported into her personal space, a gleaming dagger held barely a hair’s breadth away from the soft underside of her chin.  “You will be _quiet_ , Aoko-chan,” the older woman hissed and punctuated the statement with a sharp glare.  “I tried to do it the nice way, but you wouldn’t cooperate—which leaves us as we are here.”  Chikage huffed and straightened, though the knife never left her throat.  “All I want is a chance to explain myself to you,” she said quietly.  “Will you allow me that much, if I move the knife away?”

“Not like I have much of a choice,” Aoko muttered uncharitably, but Chikage took that for consent and removed the blade, setting it on one of the nearby tables.  The bound woman warily watched as the Kuroba widow resumed her position by the wardrobe once more, though this time she stood as she faced Aoko.  Her expression was serious, lacking all traces of her usual breezy cheer.

“Have you ever stopped to consider _why_ Kaitou KID stole what he did?  _Why_ he announced and held such public heists?” she asked in a voice laced with a hint of steel, indigo eyes steadily holding Aoko’s gaze and yet expressing nothing.

Aoko scoffed.  “A thief is a thief, no matter how you look at it.”

Chikage narrowed her eyes slightly.  “And if the thief stole counterfeits of priceless artifacts from people who thought they were buying the real thing as a means of warning them not to purchase items that should be in a museum off the black market?”

She had meant to spit something out along the lines of, “It’s still thievery either way,” when her brain caught up to her mouth and forced it to hold its tongue. _Stealing counterfeits?_   She blinked, frowning as her mind spun, processing the idea and its implications.

 _Stealing counterfeits… people would buy these counterfeits under the assumption that they were the actual thing?_   Her brow furrowed.  _So they were essentially trying to steal by purchasing.  And if the counterfeit was stolen, they cannot report it since it would give them away as having wanted to buy the actual item outright on the black market._

 _But… KID never did that.  He stole gems that he returned, and only occasionally did he do what Chikage-san said—like that one time with all the Sakamoto Ryouma items._   Aoko’s frown turned into a scowl.  _So why did she bring that up if that was never KID’s MO?  What am I missing?_

Aoko eyed Chikage, her gaze still suspicious and wary, but with a hint of speculative curiosity as well.  “I understand the point you make about stealing counterfeits, but why bring it up when it does not pertain to KID?”

Chikage’s stare sharpened.  “It has _everything_ to do with Kaitou KID.”  Her lips twitched in dark amusement.  “In fact, you could even say it’s why KID began to steal in the first place.”

_What—?_

“Kaitou KID would have never existed had Kuroba Touichi never met Phantom Lady.”  The widow’s tiny grin blossomed into a smirk.  “My husband was always an exceptionally quick study.”

“Your…”  Aoko’s voice failed her, and she could only gape in shock at the Kuroba widow—at _Phantom Lady_.  “You—you’re…”

Chikage chuckled sardonically as she bowed curtly.  “Kuroba Chikage, once known as Phantom Lady.  Pleased to meet you.”

 _No way… that’s—that’s impossible!_   Those were the last thoughts Aoko could remember before blacking out.

\---

Aoko groaned, blinking up at a dimly lit ceiling.  _What—where?_

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” said a female voice, and Aoko twisted her head to find Chikage sitting in an armchair, a cup of tea in her hands.  A quick glance around revealed that they were in the Kuroba living room.  She herself was laid out on the sofa with a fleece blanked tucked snuggly around her.

She practically jumped into a sitting position, a gasp escaping her as she recalled everything Chikage had revealed to her.  _Kaito—Kaito is—and Chikage-san—!_

“Deep breaths, Aoko-chan.”  Aoko faintly registered a warm hand rubbing her back.  “Deep breaths.  Relax.  You’re okay.  You’re okay.”

As she forcefully slowed her breathing, it occurred to Aoko that she had been hyperventilating.  She gulped and hiccupped a few times before she got herself under control.  Chikage continued to rub her back soothingly, and something inside Aoko snapped.

She squeaked out a whimper as the first few tears slid down her face.  Soon enough they were loud, sloppy bawls, and for the first time since she had mourned Kuroba Kaito’s death five years ago, Aoko honestly cried out her feelings.  Grief, anger, frustration, disappointment, and so many other nameless emotions.

And Chikage’s arms sliding around her felt… safe.  Safe, like—

“Okaa-san,” she breathed, not realizing that she had even said anything.  Therefore, she never saw Chikage’s eyes widen, never saw the tears that pooled in her indigo eyes, never saw the wobble of her lips.  All she knew was the feeling of safety, of warmth, of comfort—a kind that she did not even know that she recognized and had not known she had craved since the death of her mother when she was eight.

Night had fully descended by the time her tears slowed, and she came to sitting on the sofa with her head on Chikage’s shoulder and her arms around the older woman’s waist.  Chikage, in turn, had one arm looped around her shoulder to pull Aoko into her side.

“I—I’m sorry, Chikage-san,” she sniffled, “for getting you all wet and dirty…”

Chikage shook her head.  “It’s fine, Aoko-chan,” she murmured.  “I’m terribly sorry for upsetting you like that.”  She withdrew her arm and scooted to a more proper distance, but Aoko felt the loss of that warmth and safety keenly.  Ducking her head, she continued, “I never meant for you to find out, especially not in the way that you did.”  She paused before hesitantly, earnestly adding in a barely audible whisper, “And thank you, for letting me remember what it was like to be a mother.”

Aoko curled her arms around herself in a poor mimicry of Chikage’s embrace, unsure of what to say in the face of the widow’s unexpected apology and confession.  So instead, she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them to further the illusion of an embrace.  She rested her chin in the groove between her kneecaps, her eyes nearly swollen shut, her nose completely stopped up, and a headache blooming behind her eyeballs.

“Here.”  Aoko glanced up and found Chikage standing before her offering a glass of water, two pills of ibuprofen, and a box of tissues.  She smiled kindly, compassionately.  Taking the proffered items, she murmured her thanks.  “I’ll get a cold compress for your eyes to ease the swelling, grab a change of clothes, and order some food while I’m up.”

“Oh, you don’t need to order for me,” Aoko protested.  “I’m sorry I wasted your dinner preparation time crying on your shoulder.”

Chikage patted her shoulder.  “Nonsense.  I’ll order and send you off with your portion, if you do not wish to eat here.”  Her expression was contrite and laced with a small amount of fear.  “I know the statute of limitations in Japan with regards to grand larceny has a time limit of seven years and that it’s been six years since—since…”  She dropped her eyes, unable to look at Aoko.  “Are you going to reveal Kaito to the police?”

Aoko studied the woman before her, took in her mildly unkempt hair, the ashen hue to her complexion, the uncertainty in her body language, and—Aoko’s eyes widened in surprise—the faint shivers that wracked her body.  _She’s afraid.  Of me.  Of what I might do._

 _But more importantly… should I turn Kaito in even thought he has been gone for so long?  Revealing Touichi-san would do nothing at this point.  What they did—wasting police resources—is unforgivable!  Especially since they’ve humiliated Tou-san countless times!  But…_   She stared at the carpet beyond the couch, conflicted.  _It’s Touichi-san and_ Kaito _!  Stupid, magic-happy, prankster Kaito!  I should want to see him punished—even if he isn’t here to appreciate it!  But… can I truly do that to my best friend?_

“I won’t press you for an answer,” Chikage said quietly, “but I will accept whatever you decide.”  She left, presumably to change her shirt and order delivery.

_I guess the big question is… how do I want the world to remember Kaito?_

\---

Aoko grappled with the question for months after that meeting with Chikage, and the Kuroba widow dutifully left her alone.  During that time whenever she went back to Ekoda, she would occasionally run into young Edogawa Conan, and she wondered if the boy who had made a name for himself as a detective prodigy knew about the secret of the Kurobas.

She longed to ask the young detective if he had noticed anything that would have given Chikage away, but every time she worked up the courage to go ring the doorbell to ask, she chickened out, terrified of what Conan would do with such information.  The most probable answer was that he would go to the police.  Chikage would go to prison, and the Kuroba name would be dragged through the mud.  It was something that she could not—would not—abide by.

And yet… she could not overlook the fact that the boy that she had been friends with, had fought with, had laughed with, and been in love with, had lied to her about being Kaitou KID.  He had known how much she had loathed the phantom thief.

The winter months in Tokyo were cold enough that blankets were something she had plenty of around her apartment.  With her laptop on top of the kotatsu, a mug of matcha beside it, and a fleece throw around her shoulders, Aoko was fairly comfortable as she wrote up a report for one of her laboratory sessions.

_“—statute of limitations for grand larceny lasts for seven years before the time…”_

The tapping of the laptop keys slowed to a stop.  _Grand larceny… theft… thieves… KID… Kaito…_

A deathly still, familiar face, framed with white chrysanthemums rose up in her mind.  Her heart skipped a beat in horror as a recurring thought crossed her mind.  _Had he… had Kaito died knowing that I hated a part of him?_   Aoko’s hands dropped from the surface of the table, landing on the kotatsu’s blanket with a soft _whump_.  _Had he died without knowing how much I loved him?_

Her hands tightened into fists.  _Why didn’t I tell him when he was still alive?  I had so many chances!  And now I never will!_

Tears splattered on her knuckles, and Aoko huffed through her crying.  “It’s been six years, Aoko.  Shouldn’t you be done grieving?” she whispered to herself.  Curling her arms on the table’s surface, she quietly sobbed into her arms, only to fall into an uneasy sleep.

Morning found her curled on her side, legs still under the kotatsu and upper body wrapped tightly in the fleece blanket.  Aoko blinked the sleep from her eyes, traces of the dream she had fading from memory.  One segment lingered long enough for her to recall it consciously.

_“Aoko, cheer up.  I never wanted to make you unhappy.”_

Tears pooled in her eyes as she thought of the Kuroba Kaito that had appeared in her dream.  Though he had been dressed as Kaitou KID, Aoko could tell with absolute certainty that it was Kaito behind the monocle.  And even though she detested the way he had been dressed, Aoko was unable to fault him for it because it had suddenly dawned on her KID had been an integral part of him.

“Kaito…”  Seeing him dressed as the phantom thief had reminded her of the conversation she had had with Chikage months ago, and the reason behind KID’s thieving.  _Chikage-san never told me what KID had been after, but whatever it is, it was important enough for both Touichi-san and Kaito to dedicate their lives to it.  And if Phantom Lady was the originator…_

Aoko suddenly recalled one of her father’s drunken rants after a KID heist—specifically, the heist with the Crystal Mother.  Both she and Kaito had been on that train with the Queen Selizabeth of Ingram and her son Phillip, though she had missed seeing KID at all, asleep as she had been.  And even though she had grudgingly reconciled Kaito drugging her, in the end she was a little grateful.

It meant that she had no chance of seeing Kaito get shot at by those people…  She shuddered at the thought of anyone aiming a live weapon at KID—at _Kaito_.  Everyone knew that KID did his best not to injure anyone.  Knowing all the men that worked under her father confirmed that.  Even Edogawa Conan understood that KID did not hurt people intentionally.

_But Kaito became KID despite knowing that people wanted him dead.  He gambled his life on whatever it was that KID needed to be stolen.  And if people with guns are after whatever it was Kaito was trying to get, then it needs to remain out of their hands…_

Aoko sat up and stared at her hands for a moment before clasping them and whispering a short prayer.  _I know what I am going to tell Chikage-san._

\---

The air was more tense than anything she had ever experienced before in that house.  Aoko fiddled with her cup of tea and glanced at Chikage.  The widow was tense and uneasy, and it made something within her ache at the knowledge that her practically adoptive mother was that uncomfortable around her.

“You’ve decided, then?”  The question was quiet and resigned.

Aoko met indigo eyes that reminded her painfully of Kaito’s.  She nodded.  “I have.  Chikage-san,” she said, setting her teacup on the table before slipping off the sofa to kneel before the woman.  She bent forwards in supplication and screwed her eyes shut as she half-shouted, “Please let me help finish what Kaito and Touichi-san began!”

Stunned silence met her statement.  Yet Aoko remained where she was, determined not to move until she had Chikage’s agreement and consent.  _I_ will _do this.  For Kaito!_

“A-Are you…?”  Chikage was shocked to near incoherency.  “Aoko, what…?”

“If Kaito and Touichi-san felt that purpose was important enough to turn to thievery, then there had to be a _damn_ good reason,” she gritted out without moving.

“But—Aoko-chan!” protest Chikage.

Aoko raised her head just enough to lock eyes with the retired Phantom Lady.  “ _Please_ , Chikage-san, let me do this!”  She ducked her head and added in a much softer voice, “Chikage-san… I miss him.  I miss him _so much_.”  Very much unwanted tears squeezed themselves out from between her lashes as she remembered what dream-Kaito had told her.  “I want to do this for him.  For Kaito.”

The sound of stifled sobs caused Aoko to raise her head, and her eyes widened at seeing a teary Chikage.  “Ah!  I’m sorry, Chikage-san, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” she panicked, sitting up and flailing her hands.

Chikage chuckled weakly despite her tears and fell to her knees as well, arms coming around Aoko in an embrace.  Aoko stilled for a moment before tentatively wrapping her arms around the woman.  She felt the shoulder Chikage was leaning on dampen.

“Chi-Chikage-san?” she murmured.

“ _Thank you_ for choosing not to expose them,” Chikage breathed, pulling herself back to gaze at Aoko.  “That alone means more to me than words can express.”  A frown marred her face.  “But you don’t need to do this.”

Aoko hardened her gaze stubbornly.  “Actually, I do.”

“But why?” Chikage implored, “You realize if you choose that path you’d be going against your principles, against the law—against your _father_.”

“I understand that,” she answered, “but if I am correct in my assumptions, then the reason Edogawa Conan is living here and the fact that you are no longer overseas means that you are training him to become the next Kaitou KID.  Am I wrong?”

Chikage looked away, and there was a long stretch of silence.  “No,” she finally admitted quietly, “you’re not.  But—he came of his own volition.  There was absolutely no coercion from my end.  He figured out KID’s identity and came to me of his own volition.”

 _So… if even a detective—and KID Killer at that—thinks KID’s cause is worth picking up, it only confirms my decision to do this._   Her lips flattened in determination.  “Then I stand by what I said earlier.  Let me help.”

The Kuroba widow’s gaze was infinitely understanding and unbearably sad.  “You’re sure, Aoko-chan?”

Aoko nodded.  “Please.”

Chikage was the first to drop her eyes.  “What do you want to do to help?”

Taking a deep breath, Aoko caught the former Phantom Lady’s eyes and said with absolute conviction in her voice, “Please, Chikage-san, teach me how to become the next Phantom Lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I had this planned for a while with regards to this AU, though before anyone asks, I have no intention of continuing this. This was more a narrative of how Aoko matured in the years after Kaito’s death, and it was harder to write than I anticipated. I decided that by the time Aoko got to college she had outgrown her penchant for referring to everyone in the third person. I waffled over using the phrase, “Kaito no baka,” because I usually try not to insert Japanese into the dialogue with the exception of suffixes. However, I felt Aoko saying that instead of some variant of, “Stupid Kaito,” was much more poignant. Kaimyou are posthumous names assigned to the deceased for use in the underworld—usage of the kaimyou by the living is said to ensure that the deceased have no ties to bring them back to the realm of the living, as they might with usage of the name they answered to while alive. Sotoba are wooden planks with the name of the deceased that are placed at the gravesite. White near-scentless flowers are preferred at Japanese funerals, with white chrysanthemums—which symbolize death and grief—being the flower of choice. Funeral flowers are generally bland, as bright colors are considered offensive. Gardenia means secret love, and clover mean luck. Statute of limitation in Japan for theft lasts for seven years. Apologies for the long AN. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> \---
> 
> Completed: 23.06.2019


End file.
